After my dad and Gavin left, Carter helped me clean up the kitchen and put everything away. We talked more in depth than we had on the phone now that I wasn’t so worried about slipping up. I finally found out that Carter was crashing the frat party that night and didn't even go to The University of Ohio. He felt awful about all the time I spent with Liz and Jim trying to find him, and I felt guilty all over again about leaving him that morning. Especially right now, when he was being so nice and amazingly understanding about everything.
For the time being, Carter was sticking around. I wasn't going to hold my breath though. He said he wanted to spend time with us and do this the right way, but he also hasn't spent time alone with Gavin yet.
As Gavin so nicely put it, I had to give beer to people tonight, so after we finished cleaning Carter walked me down the street to the bar so we could continue talking. I remembered how easy it was to talk to him five years ago and how he seemed to get me and my humor when no one else did. He made me feel comfortable and he made me laugh. All of those things happened when we talked on the phone but sometimes it was harder to duplicate that level of comfort when you were face to face. In all honesty, it almost seemed easier to be with him like this, to be able to gauge his face for reactions to things I said and to see his expressions when I told him something about Gavin. It made me wish I'd done so many things differently. I was sad that he had missed out on the beginning of Gavin's life. He saw him now as a walking, talking, mouthy little boy, but he didn't get to experience the best parts, the parts that made his attitude and temper tantrums and bad habits all worth while-the first smile, the first words, the first steps, the first bear hug, and the first, "I love you."
Those were all the things that kept me from selling my child at a garage sale on a daily basis, and Carter didn't have those things. It worried me that his expectations might be too high. What if he just couldn't form a connection with Gavin? I felt connected to Carter in a way I never had with anyone else. He made me feel things I'd only dreamed about. But I didn't have just myself to consider anymore. I had to think about my son and how all of this was going to affect him.
For now, I suppose I needed to just let Carter into our lives and see where it took us.
When we got to the bar, I changed quickly into my black shorts and Fosters Bar and Grill t-shirt and was surprised to see Carter making himself comfortable at the bar when I came out of the bathroom.
I got behind the counter and walked over to stand in front of him.
"I thought you were going home," I said as I leaned onto my elbows.
He shrugged at me and smiled. "I figured, why go home to an empty house when I can sit here and stare at a hot chick all night."
I felt myself blushing and tried to suppress the giddy smile I felt coming on.
"Well, you're outta luck. It's just me here tonight."
No, I am absolutely not fishing for compliments.
"Then I guess it's a good thing that you are the hottest, sexiest woman I have ever seen."
Here, fishy, fishy, fishy.
I leaned over the bar a little to bring myself closer to him and he did the same. I didn't care if I was at work, I wanted to kiss him. And there were hardly any people here right now anyway. It was still early.
I licked my lips as I stared at his mouth and I heard him groan quietly. One more inch and I could run my tongue across his top lip.
"OUCH!"
I jerked away from Carter and yelled when something smacked against the back of my head.
Rubbing my hand against the spot, I turned around to see T.J. with both his arms in the air doing a victory dance.
"Direct hit, Morgan! That's another point for me!" he yelled as he ran over to the chalkboard behind the bar at the opposite end from me and put a tally mark under his name.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered as I turned back around to Carter.
"Um, what the hell was that about?" he asked with a laugh.
Before I could tell him it was just T.J. being a dick, the man in question ran up and stood next to me behind the bar. He slapped a ping pong ball down on the top right in front of Carter.
"That, my man, is a little something we like to call P.O.R.N."
"Wow, your idea of porn and mine are slightly different," Carter said as he picked up the ping pong ball and rolled it around in his hands.
"No, no, no. Not porn. P.O.R.N.," T.J. spelled out.
Carter looked completely lost.
"It's just this little game we play when it's slow in here," I said.
T.J. rested one hand on the bar and the other on his hip.
"Claire, don't underestimate the awesomeness that is P.O.R.N. You are completely devaluing the one thing that makes me not want to kill myself every time I come to work. A little more respect for P.O.R.N. please."
T.J. turned his attention to Carter. "Claire made up the rules," T.J. said excitedly as he pulled a piece of paper out from under the bar.
"Rules?" Carter questioned. "Don't you just throw the ball at someone?"
T.J. pushed the paper across the top of the bar and Carter picked it up to read through it.
"Au contraire my friend. There always need to be rules in P.O.R.N. Otherwise, he'll throw a ball, she'll throw a ball, they'll all throw a ball…it'll be anarchy."
"Alright there, Breakfast Club, walk away before I break the ten-foot distance rule and chuck one at your face," I told him.